


Solace

by Thascalos



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Anal, Anal Play, Angst, D/s, Dirty Talk, Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasy, Handy is adjusting to being human, Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Oral, Orgasm Denial, Plugs, Public Sex, Vaginal, or at least he's trying to, semen play, there is a lot of sex in this guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-27
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-24 20:20:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/944217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thascalos/pseuds/Thascalos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a month since he was left in the alternate universe with Rose. A regular day turns into something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my excellent betas, [nonelvis](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nonelvis/pseuds/nonelvis) and [ionlylurkhere](http://ionlylurkhere.livejournal.com/). You are both the best. 
> 
> Originally posted in November, 2009.

Rose is beneath him, hips sliding subtly atop the sheets, trying to rub her wet cunt along the tip of his hard cock, which is poised at her entrance.

"Please," she begs, "please, please, I need it, oh God. I need you in me."

They'd had a flaming, screaming row the day before, over something rubbish like putting away the dishes or not stealing confidential Torchwood documents. Flaming rows seem to happen at least twice a week, but so far at least they always seem to end with them in bed, a good fuck standing in the stead of apologies. He likes that -- no one has to admit they were wrong, and the sex is always great.

Right now his hands are braced on either side of Rose's torso. He moves one down and takes hold of her hip, keeps her still. The scenario has become a fairly familiar one, and has nothing to do with who won or lost the argument. Sometimes Rose likes to do this, and he would have to be dead not to be turned on by a beautiful girl begging for him to fuck her.

"Please, Doctor, please, anything, I'll do anything...."

"You've already travelled across universes to get to me," he says. "Risked your life, broken the laws of physics, just to get to this cock." He nudges it forward the tiniest bit, so the head is starting to press just inside. Rose whimpers.

"Yes, yes," she encourages, "I need to feel you in me, filling me--"

"Is that why you crashed through the walls between universes, to feel this?" He presses a little further and feels a gush of wet against his prick.

"Oh God, yes, so much--"

"You just knew I'd be the perfect fit." 

"Yes, ahhh--" 

He pushes into her, slow and steady, until he's buried to the root. Her cunt, hot and so, so wet, contracts involuntarily around him. "Is this what you dreamed of, Rose?" He pulls out until just his tip is inside her, then pushes back in, then again, then again, in that same steady pace. 

"Yes, yes, nothing else was good enough, oh God, it had to be you, it had to be your cock--"

He pulls out, all the way, and she makes a sound like a sob.

"But I'm not the man you went looking for, Rose."

"You are, you are, I swear." She watches him stroke himself casually in between her legs, just inches from where she wants him to be. 

"I'm not."

"You are now! You're what I want! Please, I need...."

He slides his cock along her wet, swollen flesh, but doesn't press inside.

"You need this?"

"Yes, oh God, please," she pleads, and arches her hips.

"You need me?"

"Yes, of course, always, all the time--"

He licks his lips, hesitating for a moment.

"Turn over," he says, voice soft.

She complies, trembling with pent-up desire. He fondles her arse, swipes his fingers down over her cunt and slips one finger inside. He listens to the little noises she makes as he pumps that finger in and out a few times, then he pulls away and turns to the bedside table, rummaging in it for a couple of items. When he turns back he sees Rose gently thrusting against the bed underneath her.

"Stop that," he says, stilling her with a hand on the small of her back. "You don't come until I say. You're going to follow all of my directions or you don't get what you want." 

"Yes," she agrees, breathlessly.

He picks up the bottle of lubricant he had just retrieved and opens it with a small click. He tilts it, lets the lube dribble down between her cheeks, over her little puckered hole, which is flushed a bright pink with her arousal. Rose starts flexing it, letting it widen and contract, and he starts wanking himself, watching the wetness glisten all around her pulsing rim. He lays a finger from his other hand across it and starts rubbing the lube all around, then pushes a slick finger inside, feeling the muscle give way around him, grip his finger with tight, wet heat.

"Is this what you want, then?" he asks, adding another finger, spreading the slick lubricant inside of her. 

Rose moans. "More, please, more." 

He drips some lube onto his other hand, and then wanks himself again, harder, spreading it over his hard flesh. Rose tries to spread her legs for him, but he pushes them back together. "I don't need them open," he says. "I want you tight." He also knows it would be much easier for her to come with her legs wide open, clit pressed down onto the sheets below, and he doesn't want her to come, not yet. He straddles her legs, lets his cock slide between the cheeks of her arse. "I could just do this, you know," he says, and slides a little faster. "I could get off like this, sliding on your arse, and come all over your back."

"No, no, please," Rose begs. "Please, I need you inside, I need to feel you!"

"Your cunt, or your arse? Or what about your mouth?"

"Anything, any one--" 

"Pick one."

"My arse, my arse, please..."

"Why?" he asks, pressing the tip of his cock against her slick, loosened hole.

"Because... it's where I can feel you the most...."

"Like this?" he asks, pushing slowly in.

"Ahhhh, yes!" she cries, as he works his cock all the way in. 

"Ah, you're so tight," he grunts, feeling her stretched flesh clench helplessly around him. "How do you feel, Rose?"

"So full," she breathes, and he starts to thrust. "So stretched and full and it's so good, Doctor, it's everything I always wanted, I went from universe to universe and this was what I was looking for, this -- your cock, filling me up. Feeling you deep inside me, making me beg, making me feel this way, I wish I could feel you inside me all the time, it's so good, so good." 

He fucks her harder, and harder, listening to the wet sounds of flesh on flesh, listening to her beg for his cock, beg for permission to come. "Not yet, Rose, not yet," he hisses through gritted teeth. He's close, he's very close, and as she makes a little sobbing noise of frustration he suddenly loses control and thrusts wildly for a few moments, then pushes in as far as he can go as his orgasm hits him, hot come pulsing deep inside her arse. He collapses on her back, breathing hard, but doesn't pull out.

"Bloody flipping hell," he gasps, then quickly shuts his mouth, embarrassed, hoping that he hadn't sounded too much like Donna.

"Doctor?" Rose breathes, unfulfilled arousal straining her voice. "Doctor, please...." He swallows.

"Rose," he says. "Do you really like me... being in control?"

"Can't you tell?" she asks, and tightens her muscles briefly around his now-sensitive cock, making him hiss. 

"How much?" he asks, and she must hear the slight edge in his voice. She groans and rocks her hips a little.

"Whatever you're thinking of, do it," she says. "I want it. I know I want it."

He breathes into her neck for a few moments, then leans back, patting around on the mattress. He still doesn't pull his cock out of her arse, even though he's starting to become quite soft. Finally he finds what he's looking for.

"You want to be full, Rose?" he asks, his voice low. She nods, urgently. "You want to stay full, for me? Of me?" She moans again, with another helpless rock of her hips. "All right," he says, and clicks open the cap of lube again, letting it drip onto the buttplug he's now holding in his other hand. He angles Rose's hips so her arse is pointing into the air, then he carefully pulls his soft cock out of her. Before her loosened hole can close completely he presses the plug to it, pushing it half inside, making her cry out.

"Do you know what that is, Rose?" She nods, again, forehead pressed against the tangled sheets. "I'm going to push it into you. You're going to keep it in, all day. You're going to keep my come inside you, all day."

"Oh God..." she moans.

"You'll be full, just like you want, and every time you stand or sit or move you'll remember it. You'll remember who put this plug in you. You'll remember whose come is still trapped inside your arse. Do you want that?"

"Oh fuck, yes, yes!"

"All right," he says, and pushes the plug all the way into her. He can see her muscles moving all around the plug, and she thrusts into the open air. He stills her movements with a hand, once again. 

"Oh, and you're not to come," he says, wiping away a stray bit of lube from her buttocks with a discarded t-shirt. "Not until I say."


	2. Chapter 2

Working for Torchwood is pretty boring, since he isn't yet allowed to do anything fun, like track down rogue Cyberman bases in the Ukraine, or go on salvaging missions to suspected alien crash sites. The most exciting thing he's got to do so far is the cataloguing from a salvage mission. It's a good thing he still has Donna's temping skills, because Torchwood is sorely lacking in proper organisation of paperwork, which is why they haven't noticed his minor payroll shuffling and a few missing objects from the archives. 

He's having trouble focusing on his present task involving some requisitions for some tedious conference in Switzerland, because he keeps thinking of that morning, and of Rose sitting in her office, seven floors up, plug lodged in her arse, his come trapped inside her. He's not really sure where that idea came from, but he keeps getting half-hard every time he remembers the breathy desperation of her voice, begging him for more. It's only been a little more than a month since he was left in this universe with Rose, and so they've been having sex now for almost three weeks. His body is new and so sex is new and every time has been like an adventure, something he loves even more now that he's got so few chances at it. They seem to keep going faster and faster and part of him wants to slow down, get a chance to process everything, understand it -- the part of him that's used to being human isn't used to having a penis, the part of him that's used to that isn't used to all these human hormones and the inability to control his responses. But he ignores that part. He's all too aware of the frailty of a human body, of the ease with which human life can pass, and he doesn't want _all_ of his life to pass by while he processes things at a desk. 

"Hey there, John," says a voice, and he starts. He looks up and sees Dr. Eoin Colum, one of Torchwood's resident scientists, leaning over his desk. "Mind in the clouds again, eh?"

"Er, yes, I suppose," he manages to say, cock still resolutely half-hard in his trousers. He shifts as unobtrusively as possible. 

"Just wanted to let you know, the colour photocopier up on floor twelve is acting up again. I talked to Tyler, she says you're the only person who can ever manage to get it going properly again. I was hoping you wouldn't mind fixing it up?"

"Oh, yeah, of course, I just need to finish this, er, whatever this is..." he frowns at the papers littering his desk. 

"No hurry," Eoin says. "I'm just hoping to get it working by lunchtime -- I've got a report due by this evening, and I was hoping I wouldn't have to nip out to the copy shop on my break. Let me know when you've got it running again, will you? I'll buy you lunch for thanks," Eoin says, and as he's walking away he turns and gives him a smile that makes his unruly cock twitch. 

Once Eoin is well away he pulls his mobile out of his pocket and texts Rose.

_Meet me at copyroom on floor 12 in five minutes_

He makes a half-hearted effort on his paperwork for two minutes, then stands up and walks quickly out of the cubicle area, to the hallway, and then opens the door to the staircase. It's faster than waiting for the elevator and he's much less likely to have to stand next to someone and worry about them noticing his raging hard-on. 

When he gets to the small copyroom, Rose is already there. He grabs a piece of A4 paper and scribbles "UNDER MAINTENANCE" on it with a marker and hastily tapes to it the outside of the door, then locks the door behind him. He turns and looks at her for a few moments. Her hair and makeup are smart, her skirt is professional and her jacket looks both expensive and confident. But he sees the spots of colour on her cheeks that betray her excitement, the way her eyelids hang just a little heavily as she gazes at him, her slack mouth bringing attention to her moist red lips. He walks to her, runs his hands over her shoulders, her breasts, down to her arse. He slips one hand up her thigh, cups her mound through her knickers, and he can feel that it is hot and tender with delayed arousal. He reaches back and feels the base of the plug through the silky fabric, still lodged in her arse.

"Still there, then." He keeps his voice low, both for effect and because he is very aware that even though this room is in a fairly isolated corner of the floor, someone might still walk by their door. He taps at the plug forcefully with the tips of his fingers, and she moans at the feeling of it shifting in her. "Haven't moved it, have you?"

"No--"

"Shhh," he says, laying a finger on her lips. "No talking." She nods. He slips his finger in between her lips and watches as Rose opens her mouth and licks at the intruding digit, closing her eyes as though savouring it. His breath hitches. "Get down on your knees," he says. She complies, wordlessly, and then looks up at him from the bland office carpeting. Her eyes are heavy-lidded, pupils wide enough to make her look drugged, and he feels his cock twitch again, straining against his trousers. He unzips them and manages to extricate his hard prick from his pants and pull it through his fly without having to pull his trousers down or even unbutton them. Rose is looking at his cock with a kind of glazed hunger and he pulls her forward, makes her watch him stroke his cock inches from her mouth. He pulls her closer and rubs his cock all along her face and she shudders. 

"Are you wet?" he asks, rubbing his prick onto her cheek, leaving a thin trail of precome along her flushed skin. Rose nods. "Good," he says, guiding his cock so it presses against her soft lips. 

"Suck," he says. 

Her mouth is so hot, and so wet. She purses her swollen lips around his shaft and he groans as she does as he commanded and suckles it, then bobs her heads so it slides further into that wet heat. She reaches a hand up to stroke his balls through his trousers, but he grabs it and says, "No hands. Just your mouth." She puts both hands behind her back and he can see them resting just above her pert arse, wrists crossed, and he suddenly envisions them tied behind her and he thrusts hard into her mouth. She makes a small choked noise as his cock hits the back of her throat unexpectedly and he groans again. 

"Fuck, you look bloody perfect like that, down on your knees, mouth stretched around my cock. Take it down your throat," he says, and she obeys, taking it in until her face is pressed right up against his trousers, and swallows around the head. "Fuck..." he moans, and she pulls back to gasp in a wet breath around his cock, and then takes him down and swallows again, and then does the whole thing again, and again. He holds her head still and pulls out, grabbing his cock with one hand and then rubbing it across her cheeks again, smearing saliva and precome across her face. She makes a needy little noise and he whispers, "You like that, don't you?" and has a sudden odd memory of one of the Master's earliest regenerations, and how he'd liked the same thing. He blinks and Rose is still in front of him, mouth unconsciously open, waiting to be filled, so he pushes his cock back between her lips. He starts sliding in and out.

"How does that feel then, my cock spearing your throat, the plug up your arse? You're filled from both ends, aren't you?" he asks, and Rose moans needily around his cock, shifting slightly on her knees, trying to move the plug inside her, to rub her thighs together to get some relief from her continual arousal. He stops thrusting, cock halfway down her throat, and says, "Spread your legs. Yes, that right. Now stop moving. I'm in charge here, aren't I? I'll tell you when to move." She does as he asks and he rewards her by plunging his cock down her throat, over and over, shuddering at the little gagging noises she makes. He's close, he can feel his balls drawing up, and for a moment he contemplates coming all over her face, but he realises how hard that would be to hide. Instead he abruptly pulls out, leaving a string of thick saliva trailing from his cock down to her open, needy mouth.

"Turn around," he says, breathing hard. "Down on your hands and knees. Get your arse in the air." She complies and he kneels behind her, pulling her skirt up and jerking himself with the other hand. He sees her knickers are soaked through, and he pulls them roughly down, then runs his fingers up to the plug nestled in her arse. He pulls and pushes at it, fucking her shallowly, and he can hear her muffling her cries with her fist. Tilting her arse as far up as he can, he finally pulls the plug out all the way, then pushes just the head of his cock in to replace it. Rose is shaking and so is he and he rasps, "Don't you come don't you dare come," and quickly jerks the base of his cock, his knuckles bumping rapidly between Rose's round arse and his tight balls, still trapped inside his trousers, and then suddenly he feels his cock pulsing and he's shooting spurt after spurt of hot come into Rose's arse with a long, low moan. 

He's not sure how long it takes him to become entirely aware of his surroundings again, but the first things he hears are the low mechanical hum of the various copiers, and Rose's whispered pleas coming from beneath him.

"Please, Doctor, please let me come, I need to come...." He listens for a few moments, and then gently eases the head of his softening prick from her body. He replaces the plug, pushing it slowly into her, and she makes a soft, desperate little noise as she realises what that means. He rubs a slow, soothing hand across her arse and her thighs, waiting patiently as she comes down from the edge, and her trembling calms. Her breathing evens along with his own, and he says, "Wait here for a moment." He stands up and tucks himself back into his trousers, looking around the little copy room for a box of tissues, which he finds on top of the shelves above a stack of neon-coloured cardstock. He pulls a few out and then returns to the floor, where Rose is still on her hands and knees, and gently wipes away the thin line of come that had escaped from her arse, and the remnants of her own moisture from between her legs, then pulls her knickers back up. "Come on, stand up," he says, and then wipes at her face, tucks a stray bit of hair behind her ear. She'll have to touch up her makeup but she looks presentable. Beautiful. He kisses her cheek. 

" _Do_ you want to come now?" he asks, tentatively, not wanting to spoil the moment for her, but wanting to make sure he is right. She sighs and shakes her head. "Oh, er, you can speak again," he says, awkwardly. She looks up at the clock hanging over the door.

"It's five past eleven," she observes, and her voice barely sounds shaky at all. "You should probably fix this copier -- Colum really does have a report he needs to get to Yvonne before the end of the day, and I _did_ jam it up pretty good to get you up here," she says, smirking. "I've got a busy day, but I expect to see you in my office at 2:15 so we can go over those personnel requests you've been working on." 

He blinks. 

"Yeah, of course," he says. "Personnel requests." She smiles, and he smiles back, pleased at her pleasure. "And I'll have the copier finished in no time. You know me, I'm ace with copy machines, the first time I worked in an office--" he snaps his mouth shut and feels his cheeks flush. 

They usually ignore his occasional Donna-esque lapses, but this time Rose smiles a little and says, "It's okay. It's bound to happen sometimes." She walks to the door and he watches her, thinking of the plug holding his new come, still hot from his body, inside of her. "2:15, remember?" she says. "Don't be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it, ma'am," he says. 

 

++++++

 

He's done with the copier by half-past. Eoin tells him he's a mechanical wizard and offers to take him to lunch, but he declines, feeling like going to lunch with an interesting and fairly attractive scientist would add just a little bit too much complication onto an already complicated day. 

"I'll take you some other day then, John," Eoin says. "Just let me know when!" the man calls back over his shoulder, jogging down the corridor. 

He nods at Eoin. "Thanks," he says, his ears burning.


	3. Chapter 3

It takes forever for it to be 2:15. Except that at some point he looks up from more bland paperwork and realises it's 2:11 and he has just enough time to get respectably to Rose's office if he races up the stairs two at a time. 

He makes it to Rose's floor with one minute to spare, until he has the misfortune to run into Sgt. Chambers a few doors down from Rose's office. She is serious and imposing, all the more so because she makes no attempt to conceal her dislike for him and the way he's shown up out of nowhere, and yet somehow can get people like Pete Tyler to listen to his ideas even if they run contrary to those of older, trusted personnel like herself. 

"Mr. Noble," she says, taking note of his slightly dishevelled appearance and his heavy breathing.

"Oh -- hullo, Sergeant. Just -- got a meeting -- with Ms. Tyler," he says, and takes a moment to miss having a respiratory bypass system. He makes a vague gesture towards Rose's office with one hand while he catches his breath.

"I've just come from a meeting with Ms. Tyler myself," said Chambers. "What's your business with her?"

"Oh, just some paperwork to do with that business in Namibia." He takes a deep breath. "You know -- clearing up some personnel issues, and some vehicle requisitions, that kind of thing."

"Really," she says, coolly. "Haven't you forgotten something, then?" 

"I don't think -- oh," he says, and rubs his face. "Er, right, must have left the file behind. Trying to get to the meeting on time and forget the paperwork!" He laughs weakly, but Chambers just looks at him. "Right, well, I should just dash off and get that...." He nearly throws himself through the door to the stairwell. 

Chambers is nowhere in sight when he makes his way back up to Rose's floor. Just general disapproval on her part, then, and not suspicion of anything actually nefarious. The sergeant has the authority to check any documents a peon like he might be carrying, and any kind of serious perusal of the files he's brought up would probably have revealed the fact that he'd been lying to her. He is actually a little disappointed that Chambers has gone -- he finds he likes the risk, he likes the adrenaline pumping through his veins and he wonders what Chambers would have done if she'd caught him out. Would he have been able to wriggle away with some quick talking? Or would she have arrested him? Questioned him? Would it have been better or worse if he'd just told Chambers he was about to have it off with the boss's daughter? 

He knows it's for the best that he hasn't got the chance to test his theories out -- Rose cares a lot about her job and has worked very hard to get where she is, and the last thing she needs is for him to ruin it with a sordid office scandal. They can't just run away in the TARDIS if he messes something up, he knows that. He does. 

It's nearly 2:30 by the time he opens the door to Rose's waiting room. "I'm expected," he tells Rose's secretary, a pleasant young man named Walker. "I'm a little late, I'm afraid," he adds. Walker nods and presses a button on his desk. 

"Ms. Tyler," the secretary says into a small microphone. "John Noble's here to see you. Says he's expected. And late."

"Send him through," comes Rose's tinny voice, and there is a buzzing noise from Rose's door signifying that it's been unlocked. He adjusts his tie with a look of doom and gives Walker a little salute, which makes the man laugh, and then walks through, closing the door behind him. He hears it lock again with a little _snick_. 

As a fairly senior employee of Torchwood, as well as the daughter of a very rich man who happens to be an even more senior employee of Torchwood, Rose has a large, well-furnished office, with lots of tinted windows, tasteful potted plants, and even a small private bathroom. Also, more importantly for today, nearly sound-proof walls. She's sitting at her desk, typing away at a sleek white laptop while he walks to stand in front of her desk. He lays down his file on the polished wood.

"Sorry," he says. "I met Chambers in the hall outside your office and I didn't have any paperwork -- you know, I thought that maybe she didn't like me because she thought I was some Cyberman infiltrator but actually I think maybe she suspects something's up with us and just doesn't approve of that kind of thing going on at Torchwood -- but anyway, I had to go back downstairs and--"

"It's okay," she says, and for a moment he wonders if she means it, or if she's just saying it because she's started the roleplay. He wonders if it matters. 

"Of course." He looks at her from across the desk, and he takes a moment to loosen his tie. "Stand up," he says, finally. She obeys, and watches him silently as he walks round to stand behind her. His hand runs down her back and cups her arse through her skirt. Once again he slips a hand under it, runs his hand over her smooth skin, feels the damp fabric of her knickers clinging to the plug, which is still lodged inside her. "You still haven't moved it?" She shakes her head. "You can talk, if I ask you a question," he says. "You've been sitting in wet knickers, I see." He runs one finger very lightly up her knickers, over her cunt, and he feels new, warm wetness seeping through. "You like that, feeling the wet silk sticking to you?"

"Yes," she breathes, "yes, I love sitting at my desk, my knickers soaked and this hard plug inside me -- ever since this morning I've been sitting, waiting for you to come, to fill me up again, I need it, I need it so bad...."

"Put your hands on the desk." She complies, and then he presses her head and shoulders down until they rest on the desk as well, her right cheek flush with the manilla folder underneath it. He flips her skirt up over her torso, and pulls her wet knickers down. "Spread your legs." She can only spread them so far with her knickers round her ankles, but he likes them there, so it will do. He undoes his trousers, pushing them and his pants down his hips just a little bit, and releases his half-hard cock. He plays with the plug up Rose's arse and strokes himself, and after a minute he's completely erect. 

"So you want me to fill you up then, do you?" he asks, stroking himself behind Rose, letting his cock periodically bump into the firm flesh of her arse cheeks.

"Oh God, yes, I need it, I need you, I've been going mad--" 

"You've been sitting at your desk, thinking about me bending you over, just like this, pushing my cock into your wet cunt, fucking you hard, filling up your arse and your pussy at the same time...." and as he says it he brushes the head of his prick across her wet folds, making her press back against him, desperate to get him inside her. He pulls away, and she moans in frustration. "Rose, what have I said about moving without permission?" She stills immediately, but he can see from the tremble in her thighs that it is a challenge. "I think you've been presuming too much, Rose," he says, and walks over to her plush executive chair. He sits in it, and scoots over until it's directly in Rose's line of sight. Her eyes are wide as he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a little container of lube. He uncaps it and dribbles a little into his hand and says, "So now you'll have to earn my cock. Right now you get to watch. Do a good job and beg when I ask and maybe you'll get to feel it inside you."

"Oh please, Doctor," she almost sobs, "Oh please, please--"

"I didn't ask you to beg yet, did I, Rose? That'll count against you."

She looks like she's going to say something else, apologise, but instead she just closes her mouth and watches his hand move slowly up and down his prick, spreading the slick lube and making it glisten under the muted afternoon sunlight shining through the windows. 

He thinks of how Lee used to do this with Donna, in their little make-believe world provided by CAL. She loved for him to tie her up, make her watch him wank off while she squirmed and pled, and thinking about it makes him sigh and stroke himself a little faster, those memories of being on his knees -- her knees -- of kneeling, with Lee sitting nearby, wanking, God, he'd had a gorgeous cock, and how he'd lay her on the bed and lick and suck at her tits, until she would plead with him to just fuck them. Of lying face down on their bed, of feeling Lee slowly rub his prick over her arse, how he'd kiss her belly and bite her thighs, how his tongue felt inside her cunt, oh God, she'd loved that, loved how Lee loved every part of her, not just her tits, like so many men, how--

A choked little noise from Rose makes him open his eyes, and he sees her watching him with her mouth open, breathing in little desperate pants. He realises he's been moaning, short, sharp sounds, and he's much closer to coming than he'd expected. He slows his hand down and looks at Rose with heavy-lidded eyes. He licks his lips. 

"You like what you see?" he asks. She nods. "I asked you a question, Rose," he remonstrates, swiping his thumb of his free hand over the head of his cock.

"Yes," she says, voice strained. He raises his free hand to his mouth, and licks a bit of sticky precome from the thumb. "Oh God..." she whispers. 

"You want to taste me, Rose?"

"Oh God, yes, I want to feel you on my tongue, all hot and heavy, filling my mouth, my throat, I want to taste your come, I want to swallow it all, but there's too much to swallow, some of it gushes out, and I feel it dripping down my chin, all thick and wet, and you'd make me lick it all up, every drop." She talks faster and faster as she outlines the fantasy, and he groans and bucks into his hand. 

"But what about your cunt?" he asks, breathing faster. "I thought you wanted me inside your cunt, fucking it with my cock?"

"Yes, yes, I want to be bent over just like this, with you standing behind me, and this plug deep in my arse, and I can hear you, your hand on your cock, stroking, and I'm waiting to be filled, and then i feel something pushing into me, and I'm so wet, it goes right in, but it's just your finger and I beg you, please, please, I need more," and his hand is speeding up again, listening to her, watching her hips start to move helplessly in the air, wanting her fantasy to be true. "And you pull your finger out and I'm so empty, and I'm begging you, and then suddenly you push your cock into me and it feels so good, both of my holes stretched and full--" 

He stands up and walks towards her, hand still moving on his cock.

"Bent over, just like this?" he asks.

"Yes...."

"With me standing behind you, just like this?" he asks, taking the position. 

"Yes, Doctor, yes...." He can see her muscles contracting around the plug, her hips moving, and he lays a hand on one hip.

"Don't move, Rose, don't move." She stills again, but her whole body is trembling with anticipation and desire. He lays his prick, still slick with lube, just above the plug in her arse and starts to slide it slowly along her skin. He watches the head slide over her cheeks and then back, and again, and again. "What if I did what I threatened this morning instead? What if I just slid my cock on you like this until I came over your back, watched my come dripping down your skin and onto your nice executive desk, and never touched your cunt at all?"

"Oh no, Doctor, please--!"

"But I could, couldn't I?" he says, still rubbing his cock along her skin. "I could."

Rose shudders beneath him.

"Yes," she whispers.

With that admission he takes his cock, slides it down to her wet cunt, and pushes in. Rose cries out so loudly that he's glad of the sound-proofed walls. Once he's sunk in to the root, he stills, taking a few moments to feel her wonderfully hot, wet flesh all around him, to feel the plug pressing up against his cock through the thin membrane separating them. Then he pulls all the way out of her again and lays his cock back on the top of her arse, sliding across her skin even more easily now with the new wetness from her cunt. Rose chokes and moans at the loss.

"You wanted to beg, didn't you?" he asks, trying to keep the shake out his voice. "Well, beg then."

He listens to her litany of pleas and promises and rubs himself along her arse, sometimes pulling back to wank himself with his hand for a minute or so, and periodically rewards her begging by dipping his cock into her cunt to keep himself slick and wet. By the time he feels his balls drawing up Rose is practically sobbing and nearly incoherent. He pushes into her once more, and before she can even thank him he's pulled out again. He stands back and pulls the chair over, locking the wheels with the toe of his shoe. 

"Come on, I want you bent over that chair, face down in the seat." Rose moves awkwardly, hobbled by the knickers still round her ankles. "That's right, that's right," he says, stroking himself as Rose complies, her arse now high in the air. He fondles her, fingers sliding in the sticky wetness he's smeared all across her arse and lower back, then grabs the flared end of the plug. He keeps stroking himself, faster and faster, listening to Rose's harsh, expectant breaths, and then suddenly he has to pull the plug out and push the head of his cock into her in its stead, and her muscles convulse around him and he's coming, emptying himself into her arse again, and this time it's Rose who gives a long moan as she feels the hot liquid shooting deep inside. 

He stands slumped over her for a long minute, left fist braced against one arm of the chair, the plug still held in that hand. Somehow he's still wearing all of his clothes, his open trousers barely falling down his narrow hips. Rose is still pleading underneath him. But he's sure he knows what she wants, now. He pulls the head of his prick out of her as gingerly as possible -- it's usually sensitive after he comes, but after all the day's activity it's starting to get a little tender. He looks at the plug in his hand. It's sticky, but not slick like it was that morning when he first lubed it up, so he picks the little bottle up from the floor and gives it a fresh application, then presses it gently back into Rose. She keeps pleading to come but he feels her shudder when he slips it back inside. 

"Shhh," he says, rubbing gently up and down her thighs. "No more begging, now." She quiets immediately. "You stay like this. I'll be right back." He goes to Rose's small private bathroom, holding his trousers up with the least sticky of his fingers. Once there he washes his hands. He finds a cloth and washes his still tender cock and balls, checks for stains on his clothes. There's a couple of damp spots on his pants, and a pretty big one on the bottom of his shirt, but no one will see that once he tucks it back in. He fixes his hair and then re-wets the cloth with hot water, and takes it back to Rose's office. She still bent over her chair, and he takes the warm cloth and washes her back, her arse, her thighs, getting rid of the various sticky lubricants and leaving her clean and dry. He hesitates, then leans down to give her a kiss on the small of her back. "Do you have a place where you keep extra clothes?" he asks.

"Right-hand side of the cabinet, the one nearest the bathroom."

He trots over and opens the cabinet. The second drawer has a few pairs of socks and stockings, a couple blouses, and some underwear, which is what he's looking for. He finds a pair with a cute little strawberry print and smiles. He goes back to Rose.

"Stand up, now." She does, but when she turns around and sees the fresh knickers a slight look of disappointment crosses her face. "Don't worry, we're not done," he assures her quickly. "After work we'll go home and I'll--"

"Well," Rose interrupts, and he blinks. Play is over for the moment, it seems. "A few work mates are going out for some drinks at the Exchequer after work. I thought maybe we could both go?"

"Hmmm, well, I did have some plans that involved taking you home and licking you to a spectacular orgasm through these knickers--"

"I was thinking that maybe we didn't have to go straight home tonight."

He looks at her. She wants to go, he can see it, and from the excited flush on her cheeks he can see that she wants to keep their play going at the same time. 

"You're sure?" he asks anyway.

"Yes," she says, simply. 

He runs a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, all right," he says, nodding slowly. "Sounds good."

"I'll probably be a little late," Rose says. "Have some things I need to catch up on before I can leave. But I should be there around six at the latest. Okay?"

"Okay," he repeats. He realises he's standing in the middle of Rose's office, still holding a pair of her back-up knickers, and feels a bit out of place. He hands them to her. "You should still probably... well...." She takes them.

"If you like," she says, and he doesn't miss the subtle emphasis. He nods. She changes and the old pair is put away somewhere and then Rose is sitting in her big executive chair and he's standing on the other side of her desk, and he is an employee and she is his boss, but she's also his old friend and his new lover and someone he missed so much and someone he never thought he'd even meet and now the only someone he'll ever see again and she's sitting with his come trapped inside of her by a piece of non-porous blue silicone. He picks up his bogus file from her desk and holds it in front of him. 

"I'll, ah, I'll see you later then?"

She smiles at him. "Definitely."

Two minutes later and three and a half floors below, he leans against a white concrete wall and takes a deep breath, then slowly sighs. 

 

++++++

 

Twenty minutes later he's in a stall in the men's room on the eighth floor. He prefers this one because the toilet paper dispensers have a convenient little ledge on top that the one on his floor lacks. It's also better lit. 

He pulls a little bottle from one of his pockets. It's labelled "Iron and Vitamin C - 60 Tablets". He opens it and shakes a couple of tablets into his hand, contemplating them. They're don't actually contain ferrous gluconate, or ascorbic acid. He made them himself late one night in one of the Torchwood labs, about two weeks ago, and each tablet contains about 25 mg of alpha-methylphenethylamine. A Time Lord is able to control their body and its chemical processes to a great enough degree that artificial stimulants and depressants are rarely necessary, but a human isn't, as he's become more than aware of in the past weeks. 

He lays two tablets onto his convenient toilet paper ledge, and removes a little scalpel, nicked from one of the ghoulish autopsy rooms, from one of his pockets. He uncaps the blade and carefully cuts one of the tablets in half. He drops one half back into the bottle, screws it shut, and puts it back into his pocket along with the scalpel. He picks up the remaining one point five tablets and pops them into his mouth and swallows them dry. There's a bit of pill dust left on the ledge and he licks his thumb, presses it to the dust, then licks it again. All tidied. Then, since he's in a stall anyway, he takes a piss. 

He washes his hands in a white sink, leans down and splashes his face with cool water. He takes a minute to mess with his hair, then dries his hands and face with a paper towel. 

Down the corridor are a couple of vending machines. He swipes his ID card and gets two raspberry almond protein bars. He starts eating one while he contemplates the drinks machine, which is, of course, entirely stocked with Vitex products. Finally he chooses an "Energy Water, with essence of Pomegranate and 13 essential vitamins", which he knows is complete bollocks, but it's the least disgusting thing in the machine and even trace vitamins are better than none. He's finished the first protein bar and drunk half of the water by the time he makes it back to his desk.

"Oi, you're looking a lot better, mate," says Inaya, a temp who's got the desk nearest to his. "You came back from your meeting looking like you needed a nap or something."

"Oh, just forgot to take my iron supplement. I've got mild anaemia -- makes me tired. I'm all sorted now, though." He flashes her a cheeky grin. "By the way, are you going down the pub with everyone tonight...?"


	4. Chapter 4

The pub is bustling when he and Inaya walk inside together. He's talking a mile a minute, relating one of Donna's old temp stories involving a Christmas party, a hole-punch, a stuffed armadillo, and a faulty cracker. Inaya is laughing, there's loud music, there are people talking and dancing and drinking and playing snooker and darts and there's even a pinball machine in one corner blinking and flashing as a player smacks the side and swears at it in disgust. 

"Pinball!" he yells, excited. "Oh, I love pinball! And darts and snooker but darts doesn't have little flashy lights and snooker doesn't have a multi-ball bonus -- although, I wonder if you could develop a multi-ball version? Would you have multiple cue balls or would you just have everyone trying to play at the same time --? Blimey, it's hot in here," and he peels off his thin jacket -- it's spring and it's getting warm, but its not _quite_ warm yet, although the forecast for the next day had sounded promising. Or was that for next week? "Oh, here, let me help with that," he says, and takes Inaya's jacket and lays it over one arm, then holds it up again and says, "Bloody hell, this is a nice jacket, I love these buttons, it's not a Samuel Kisgart, is it?"

"Ha ha, on _my_ salary? I wish! It's a nice knock-off, though, isn't it?"

"Too right it is! I'd wear it if I had shoes to go with it -- oh, you're laughing at me again, but I really would!"

"I'm laughing because I _know_ you would, I'm just picturing it... oh look, I recognise a few people over there from the office!" She waves at a group of people clustered round a booth, with a couple of chairs stolen from other tables pulled up to make it homier. "Oh, look, there's Eoin." She jabs him in the ribs in what is probably meant to be a surreptitious fashion. "I think he's got a thing for you, if you know what I mean," she says in a mock confidential voice. "He dropped by again today when you were in your meeting with Tyler, looked really disappointed when you weren't there." 

He looks at her in surprise. 

"Don't know if you swing that way," she says, "but he certainly seems to want to swing _your_ way."

"Hmm, well, I swing a lot of ways," he says, and gives her a look that makes her blush. Then they're being waved over to the table and Eoin is taking their jackets and smiling at him and Elisabeth from Research and Defence is challenging everyone to darts and Ibhn from IT is loudly proclaiming that this modern dance music is shite and whatever happened to Frankie Goes to Hollywood and Mary from Accounts tries to make a house of cards with everyone's coasters. 

He reaches across the table and take's Eoin's glass, and sniffs at the liquid inside it, which is an interesting shade of green. He takes a sip. "Oh, that's tasty," he says, and takes another swallow, watching Eoin try to decide whether he should be put out or bizarrely flattered. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," the scientist says, "I think it's got rum in. And... something. I saw someone else with it and liked the colour."

"That's always a good reason to order a drink, in my opinion," he says. There's a small drop of liquor trailing down the side of the glass, and without breaking eye-contact he catches it skilfully with his tongue, then hands the glass back to Eoin. "I think I'll have one of those as well. Back in a mo."

He goes to the bar and taps a rapid tattoo on the heavy wood while he's waiting to place his order. He wonders what Rose is doing. Is she still working? Is she walking to the pub right now, those strawberry knickers tight across her arse and the plug shifting inside her with each step? A man asks him for his order. "One of those green things," he says, and points, "and a shot of whiskey." He pays and leaves a generous tip, swallows the shot of whiskey, grabs his green drink and walks back to the table. 

He takes Elisabeth's dart challenge and gapes when he loses. Donna had been brilliant at darts. Eoin stops him pouting by agreeing to work with him on a multi-cue ball version of snooker, which experimentation doesn't actually last very long once angry snooker players from other tables figure out where all the cue balls have gone. He finishes his first drink and gets another. He doesn't drink much of it before he's off dancing to some bhangra beat with Inaya and Eoin and somebody whose face he recognises but whose name he can't remember. His collar's undone and his sleeves are rolled up and sweat is starting to make his undershirt cling to his chest. Inaya's hair smells good, so he leans in to get a better whiff. She blushes again but she pushes him away; she fancies the other bloke whose name he can't remember, he knows, he watched her persuade him to dance, and he sees Eoin eyeing him so he says, "Are you feeling left out? Here you go," and then leans close, until his forehead is nearly touching Eoin's temple and his breath is warm on Eoin's ear, and smells his short, curly hair. He'd expected something a little clinical and is pleasantly surprised when he smells mint overlaying the scent of male. He pulls back. "Not bad," he says, and smiles at Eoin's red-tipped ears, and then he sees Rose behind Eoin, standing near the table, watching them. He gives her a smile too. " 'Scuse me," he says to Eoin, and bounds over to the table. 

"Having fun?" Rose asks, her eyebrows raised.

"Oh, you know me, I make my own fun." He spots his drink. "Oh, there you are!" he says to it, and takes a swallow. "Would you like to try? It's pretty good. It's green. Do you need a drink? Let's go, I'll get you one. It doesn't have to be green. Maybe it could be red, or blue. Ooh, or purple, do you think they've got purple ones?" 

"No thanks," she laughs. "Devendhra is getting me a pint." He scowls, feeling oddly put out that Rose is ruining the ROYGBIV colour spectrum drinks game he hadn't realised he wanted to invent until a minute ago. "Ugh, don't sulk 'cause my drink won't colour-coordinate with yours or something," Rose says, reading him too easily. "And I've got plans for you that don't involve sulking in the slightest." She licks her teeth and he suddenly remembers their game.

"Oh," he says, wondering if the green drink is having a bit of a delayed reaction since he suddenly feels a little dizzy.

Inaya and Eoin appear next to him, sweaty and laughing. 

"Oh my God, John, you missed it!" Inaya laughs. "Oh it was brilliant! Eoin did this perfect body roll -- oh, hello, Ms. Tyler!" Inaya says, suddenly conscious of the presence of a _boss_. 

"We're not at work -- call me Rose," she replies, smiling. "That 'Ms. Tyler' stuff gets tired, honestly. I don't remember your name though...?"

"Oh, this is Inaya," he interrupts, "she's a temp, she works next to me in Archives, she's got a degree in psychology and she has this gorgeous jacket, you should see it --" he turns back to the booth as though it might magically appear in front of him and when it doesn't he turns back and says, "Where's your bloke, by the way?" 

" _My_ bloke, he says -- Graham's getting some food."

"Oh, now that's a good idea," says Rose. "I think I'll get some as well, I haven't eaten since lunch, I've just been so busy -- there anything special you'd like, Doctor?" she asks him, and he wonders if this is a part of the game too, if it's a test, if he's supposed to tell her what to get or know what she wants or ask for something he knows she doesn't want and he wracks his brain trying to remember what was on the menu board hanging over the bar and he knows if he was _really_ the Doctor he'd remember every word and what colour chalk they'd all been written out in and possibly where the chalk had come from and what epoch of the Cretaceous it had originally been deposited in and he wouldn't have needed these amphetamines just to feel awake and alive and buzzing after a day in an office, even if the office was boring and maybe a little scary, the first weeks were like an adventure but now he looks forward and sees more and more office carpeting and copy machines and maybe that's why he thinks about sex all the time now, because it's always an adventure and he knows that sex with Eoin would be different to sex with Rose, or Inaya, or Lee or Reinette or the Master or maybe it's all these human androgens he's got running through his veins now, or maybe this is the amphetamines as well, he's wanted to fuck ever since he swallowed them that afternoon, but that was why he'd taken them, wasn't it--

"Doctor?" Rose asks, and he blinks.

"Oh, er...." His mouth is dry. He takes a quick sip of his drink. "Whatever looks good. I don't know the place as well as you. Um, not soup. Or, okay, if it's good -- oh, do they have those fried cheese sticks, I love those--" 

Rose laughs. "Okay, okay, I'll see what they've got. Back in a few." She walks off and Eoin turns to him.

"I hope I'm not being rude, but why does she always call you 'Doctor'?" Eoin asks. "She does it at work sometimes too. Are you one? I mean, you seem to know a lot about physics, at least, and I heard Elisabeth talking about some plans you'd drawn up for Cyberman-tuned EMP devices."

He swallows the rest of his drink.

"Nah," he says. "It's just a nickname." He quirks an eyebrow. "So when are you going to show me this body roll, eh?"

 

++++++

 

There is more dancing, with Rose joining in, and Eoin shows off his body roll and everyone cheers when that's followed that with a windmill on the floor even though it accidentally knocks over a chair. He pulls the chair off of Eoin and when everything is righted he cruelly persuades Rose to play darts with Elisabeth. After she's done smacking his arm there's lots of fried food and he keeps sneaking sips of Rose's beer and Eoin's new yellow drink. His mobile buzzes in his pocket and he slides it open to reveal a text message from Rose, who's still sitting a couple feet away from him. _C u in alleyway out back 10 min_. He stares at it for a moment, then slides the phone shut and slips it back into his pocket. If it wasn't for the vasoconstricting properties of the amphetamines he'd already be hard. 

Rose leaves soon after, saying she's got some work she needs to catch up on. Everyone waves her off and she doesn't betray anything with her bland smile at him. The next ten minutes are a strange torture, thinking about Rose in the alleyway while he eats chips and plays pinball with Eoin. He pretends to get an urgent call and says he'll be back inside as soon as he can, asking questions like, "How long?" and "Have you told anyone yet?" of his imaginary caller until he gets outside and snaps the mobile shut.

She's waiting for him behind the building. There's a little alcove where a door used to be, but now it's bricked up and that, combined with a large rubbish skip a few feet away, shields the spot from easy view. A used condom on the ground a few feet away seems to confirm the usefulness of the spot. His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding. He swallows and wishes he'd drunk a bit more water when he was inside. Rose beckons to him and he obeys the unspoken order. He walks to her and immediately slips a hand up underneath her skirt to feel for the plug. It's there and he groans quietly into her neck. She turns her mouth close to his ear.

"I need you so bad, Doctor," she whispers. "I need you to fuck me right here. I'll do anything...." 

He turns her around, presses her gently against the crumbling brick in front of them. Presses his groin against her arse, rubs slowly against her through their clothes. He bites her shoulder and groans again. He's so turned on but he isn't hard. Fucking amphetamines; he purposefully didn't take a very high dose so he could avoid this. Rose notices and breaks character.

"You didn't drink too much, did you?"

"No," he snaps, and it's not a lie -- a couple of mixers and a whiskey, that's not too much. "Just give me a minute; it's been a pretty active day for me you know." He licks his lips, pulls up Rose's skirt and pulls her knickers down just past her arse cheeks. Undoes his trousers and holds his soft prick against her warm skin, starts rubbing it slowly. "Keep talking," he breathes, and she starts whispering again, how she needs it, how she dreams about it, how she travelled across the universes for it. He listens with half an ear and lets his mind wander, going over some of his favourite wank material -- sending the kids off to their grandparents and then riding Lee hard on their kitchen table; the first time he came into his best friend's mouth, when they were both naive, rebellious schoolboys; kneeling beneath Reinette's skirts, tasting her, fucking her with his tongue until he had to hold her in place to keep her from sliding down to the floor.

Yes, that's helping; he can feel the blood diverting to his cock, feel it starting to firm up in his hand. He needs more, though. He pictures Eoin -- yes, that's good, he knows what he smells like now, he can almost imagine what it would taste like to lick all the way up his throat to his ear to bite the lobe gently beneath his teeth. He pictures himself pulling Eoin into the men's room -- no wait, fuck that, they're on a mission somewhere, hiding from Cybermen, or Zygons. They're trapped in a cave, they have to be quiet, so they're not discovered, but they're both high on adrenaline and standing so close, he can hear Eoin breathing hard into his ear, and he turns his head and their lips brush and they're kissing. He strokes his cock a little faster, wonders if Eoin would be slow and sweet, or fast and forceful. Well, this is his fantasy and right now he wants Eoin to be fast and forceful, so he is, and Eoin pins him against a damp rockwall, bites his neck, then he pushes him back so he can drop to his knees in front of Eoin, unbutton his corduroy trousers and take him in his mouth. So then Eoin groans, and he looks up with his mouth full of cock to see Eoin braced against the damp stone, palm sliding over the slick lichen. Eoin lays his hands on his head, guides his mouth back and forth over the hard flesh until he can't bear it, then holds his head still as Eoin fucks his mouth hard, finally shoving his prick down his throat and coming in great spurts, and he swallows it all as he kneels on the ground, jerking his own cock until his come pulses onto the damp sedimentary rock beneath them, then leaning down and licking away the drops that spattered over Eoin's shoes.

"Fuck," he whispers, and he's fully hard, tracking wet precome across Rose's arse. He shifts and pulls her knickers down further with his other hand so he can run a finger over her wet slit, then push the finger halfway inside of her, and at that she bucks desperately beneath him. 

"Oh, yes, yes, ahhhh, your finger is so cold, more, more," so he pushes another finger up alongside the first. "Oh God, oh God," Rose pants. "It's so good.... When you were gone I used to soak my dildo in ice water so, ah, ahhh, so I could push it into myself, and pretend it was your cold cock filling me up--"

"What?" he says, his hand faltering. He feels like an icy lump has just dropped into the pit of his stomach. 

"I needed you so bad and I remembered how cold your skin was--"

He's suddenly breathing very hard.

"My skin's the same temperature as yours, Rose."

"I know, I know it is now, this is before you came back, it was different--"

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," he says. His chest feels tight, he's a little light-headed, but he's still hard, his cock -- his hot, human cock -- is still pressed close against Rose's arse. He pulls her a little away from the wall and bends her over, bracing her hands against the brick. Her knickers are only pulled a few inches down her thighs so her legs are close together when he pushes his cock into her cunt. 

"Ahhh, yes, please, more, Doctor...."

He's got both hands on her hips, and uses the leverage to pull her all the way onto his cock. He stands still and pulls her back and forth, watching her wet flesh slide over his prick in the dim streetlight. 

" _This_ is what you want, isn't it?" he whispers harshly. "Isn't it?"

"Oh God, yes, yes --"

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, Rose," he breathes, leaning close over her back. "I'm going to knock everything else out of your head but the feeling of my cock fucking you so fucking hard--"

He pulls out abruptly, ignoring Rose's whimpers, and roughly pulls down her knickers. He wants her legs wide so he tugs them off, leaves them hanging off one ankle, and kicks her legs apart. He lets Rose wait for a minute, bent over with her legs spread wide in a dark alleyway, then suddenly plunges back into her, shoving his cock all the way with one thrust. She cries out and he slaps his hand over her mouth. "Don't talk," he says, "don't you make a sound unless I tell you," and then he's fucking her hard and fast. 

It's so good and Rose is so wet and this is why he took those pills, because he feels like he could keep fucking her all night. He slips his other hand under her shirt and pushes up her bra so he can squeeze her breast, pinch the hard nipple and listen to her little moans muffled beneath his palm. He bites her shoulder again. If they weren't in an alley he would lay her down and mouth her breasts; he would lie on his back, and watch her ride him; he would lie between her legs and lick her until she shook and came, and then do it all over again. 

The night air is cool on his brow, where sweat is starting to plaster down bits of his hair. Rose is sweating too, he can feel it underneath his hands, and he leans forward so he can lick the salt off the back of her neck. He hears a few pedestrians talking and laughing on the street nearby and he slows down his thrusts. "Hear that, Rose?" he whispers. "Just imagine if those people came down this alley and found you, all wet and spread open, impaled on my cock and still begging for more." He feels her mouth open behind his palm, panting. "I bet you wouldn't even notice them, all you're thinking about is my prick, my hot prick filling you up just the way you want," and then he feels her tongue lapping at his palm with broad, wet strokes and he thrusts hard, groaning. His palm is wet and so he rubs it across her face, feels her cunt contract all around him. 

"Yes," she's whispering, "fuck, yes," but then he closes his hand over her mouth once more.

He's starting to feel his orgasm building and he knows if he doesn't slow down that he's going to come, but he doesn't want to slow down, he wants to fuck faster, he wants to feel Rose shudder and shake and come around him as he empties himself into her cunt, and then he wants to kneel beneath her in this dirty alley and lick her folds clean with his tongue while he reaches behind and fucks her arse shallowly with the plug until she comes again. His hips snap and he starts to trail his hand from her breast, down her torso and he's just barely grazed her clit when she bucks and surprises him by grabbing his hand away. She slides her mouth just away from the palm covering it.

"Not yet," she gasps, "not yet."

His rhythm falters, but he doesn't stop. He stares at her in confusion. "But--"

" _Not yet_ ," she hisses, and he suddenly understands what she wants. He grits his teeth and tries to re-find his rhythm. 

"You want it, get in the right position," he says, voice hoarse, and gives her shoulders a hard push down. She slides down the brick until only one hand is on the wall, and the other is braced on the damp, dirty ground. Her arse is in the air, illuminated by the streetlight, while the rest of her is now in shadow. He stares at the plug still lodged inside of her arse as he fucks her, then pulls it out, watching the fluttering hole as he thrusts wildly into her cunt, faster, faster, until he can't wait any longer and pulls swiftly out of her wet cunt and pushes the head of his cock into her arse, and Rose is repeating, " _yes, yes_ ," over and over and he's jerking the base of his cock and shaking and sweating and then something inside him breaks and he's coming, coming, hot semen pulsing from his cock and shooting deep inside her.

As soon as he's done he pulls out and stumbles backwards, almost falling, but he hits the hard corner of the skip beside him instead. "Fuck!" he gasps, not sure if it's at the pain of the metal jabbing into his ribs or the force of his orgasm. His heart is racing and somehow he's both wildly exhilarated and terribly nauseous. 

"Doctor," Rose is whispering, still bent over, "Doctor, please...." He watches her and tries to catch his breath. He knows what she wants. The plug is still gripped in his left hand, and he looks down at it, sees his fingers trembling slightly around it. He knows she wants him to replace it so they can do this one more time, but he can't seem to make himself move forward. 

"Doctor," she repeats. "Doctor...."

"Rose, I --" He doesn't know what he wants to say. 

"Please don't leave me like this," she whispers, and his heart constricts. He steps forward and kneels down on the dirty pavement behind her.

"Of course I won't," he says, and slowly pushes the plug back into her with his trembling hands. He wraps his arms around her waist and rests his face on her back. "Of course I won't."

Eventually he leans back, rubs one hand up and down her thigh while he uses his other to rummage around in his pockets for a napkin. He finds one and wipes away the thin trail of come that had escaped before he replaced the plug. He gets to his feet and helps her stand, smoothing down her skirt. Her knickers are damp from half-lying on the pavement, so Rose just kicks them off her shoe. He finally tucks himself back in and buttons his trousers. He wants to hold her -- he wants her to hold him -- but they're just looking at each other in the dim yellow streetlight. He wants to say, "I can't do this," but he's not sure what he'd be referring to if he did and he's scared he might mean more than just a kinky sex game. So he says something else.

"9:30. In the sitting room at the flat. You should be naked. And blindfolded. Move the coffee table out of the way and wait for me on the floor in the middle of the room. You could, ah, you could put down a blanket, so you won't be cold. Turn off all the lights except the paper lamp, at the lowest setting." He pauses. "You can use one of my ties for a blindfold, if you like. All right?"

She looks at him with relief and a touch of excitement, and nods slowly. 

"I've, um, I've got to go back in and get my jacket," he says. 

"I don't," she responds. "I didn't bring one."

"Okay," he says. 

She gives him a soft, wistful kind of smile, and kisses him gently on the lips. Then she turns and walks down the alley, back toward the street. Just before she makes it she turns and says, "See you at 9:30. Sort of." He nods. Then he's left alone in the alley. He looks down at Rose's abandoned underwear, their sweet strawberry print soiled. An incredible wave of sadness rolls over him as he looks at them, crumpled on the cold wet ground. He closes his eyes and holds his breath until it passes, then exhales carefully. He picks the knickers up, puts them in his pocket. He'll clean them, he'll hand-wash them and get the grime and the grease out, and he'll dry them and fold them and save them, for Rose. 

He makes his way back into the pub. Most of the work crowd has dispersed but he sees Inaya and Graham still sitting at the table. 

"Hi, guys," he says. 

"John, you're back! I was starting to think you'd left and forgot your jacket. I was going to take it home with me and bring it into work tomorrow. Eoin offered, actually, but I said I might as well, in case you came back."

"So Eoin's gone then?" he asks, feeling inexplicably let down.

"Yeah, about fifteen minutes ago. Hey, are you all right? That phone call took a long time."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just some personal stuff I had to deal with -- nothing big, just blah, you know?"

"Sounds like family stuff. Let me get you a pint, it'll make it go down easier."

He gives her a rueful laugh.

"All right."


	5. Chapter 5

At a quarter past nine he's sitting on the roof of their building, looking up at the sky. It's as clear a night as it ever gets in early twenty-first century London; even this alternate universe has plenty of air pollution. But he can see the moon, a few days off full, and a few stars, and far below them the zeppelins floating sedately over the city. He takes a long drag off of his cigarette. Donna had quit smoking after she got engaged to Lance and saw an ad for nicotine patches saying, "Make today the first day of your new life". He's not sure why he's started back up. He was passing a chemist's the week before and he found himself walking inside and buying a pack of Silk Cuts. He looks down at the half-empty pack in his hand. " _Smoking harms you and others around you_ " it says in bold letters. He exhales and tries to make a smoke-ring, and doesn't quite manage it. Donna had been good at them. He supposes practise will make perfect.

Rose wouldn't like that he smokes, if she knew. It's disgusting and unhealthy, she says, and she's right of course. It's also incredibly human, a reminder that he's the kind of person who sleeps and fucks and loves and cries and has a core temperature of 37 degrees Celsius and no respiratory bypass and one solitary heart and probably only forty or fifty more years before he dies. If he's lucky. But of course it's also a reminder that he's not the sort of person who flies from world to world in a little blue box, crashing parties and toppling dictatorships and finding friends and losing them and wondering if he'll ever die before the people he loves. The kind of person who lets, hopes for, encourages young girls and boys fall in love with him because he's lived for century after century and has seen such terrible things and done even worse ones, but he's still lonely and in need of love. The kind of person who is so afraid of the idea of having to face himself every day, even an imperfect reflection, that he has to leave it behind in another universe and seal it away forever. 

Cold is seeping into his arse from the concrete he's sitting on, but that's fine, he kind of likes the discomfort. He's still buzzing a little but the amphetamines have started to wear off enough that he's finally feeling all the alcohol he drank. The fag is good, it'll give him just a little boost, make sure he doesn't start fading before he climbs down the stairs to their flat in a few minutes. He'll just have to eat a mint before he goes, so Rose doesn't taste it. 

He taps a bit of ash onto the ledge of the roof, watches the little flakes tumble and scatter in the breeze. 

 

++++++

 

At half-past he's leaning against the doorway to the sitting room. Rose is kneeling in the middle of the room, naked, one of his ties wrapped around her eyes. A fluffy blue duvet is spread out beneath her. He watches her for a few minutes, silent, but he's sure she heard him enter. She doesn't move. He walks closer, stops at the edge of the duvet; unbuttons his shirt, his trousers, dropping clothing in a pile until he too is naked. He kneels in front of her, leans close but doesn't touch. He sees that she's trembling just slightly with anticipation. 

He imagines what might happen if he just pulled the blindfold off and kissed her, held her, licked and stroked her to orgasm and then laid with her all night. He actually raises his hands to do it, but falters, letting his fingers brush her flushed skin lightly with the tips of his fingers, and feels her shiver. He runs his fingertips up and down her torso, her throat, her breasts, her thighs. He reaches back and feels the base of the plug still nestled between her soft cheeks, and he presses on it, listens to her breath speed and hitch with desire, and knows that he'll continue until the game is over. 

He reaches back into his pile of clothes and pulls out another tie, binds her arms behind her. He presses her backward gently until she's on her back, lying awkwardly on her bound arms. He pulls her legs up and splays them wide open so she's spread out beneath him, then lifts her and pushes a throw pillow underneath her, so she's tilted up and he can see her wet cunt and her plugged arse. 

Her folds are flushed and swollen when he parts them with one hand, running the index finger of the other up and down the tender flesh. He brushes her clit with the lightest of touches and she arches up, a moan finally escaping her lips. Denying her orgasm again and again has made her arousal acute, and even that light touch has her legs shaking, so he goes back to ignoring her clit and instead slips a finger into her. He slides it in and out very slowly, watching it disappear and then emerge slick and shining in the dim light. He focuses on that and starts stroking his soft cock, feeling it start to firm under his fingers. Rose starts moving her hips in time to the shallow thrusts of his finger, but he stops her with a touch of his hand to her belly. After a few minutes he's half-hard, and so he pulls his finger out of Rose and then moves to straddle her face, so the head of his cock is resting against her lips. She obeys the silent order and opens her mouth, and he pushes inside. 

Her mouth is so good, and he focuses on the warmth, the wetness, the soft tongue. When he pushes down into her throat she bucks and moans, so he does it again, then again, harder, until she gags. He likes the sound of that so he keeps it up, thrusting and listening to her choke around the cock in her throat. He pulls out and she gasps and sputters for air, saliva running out of the corner of her mouth and he rubs his cock in it, smearing it across her face. "Oh God --" Rose starts but then he cuts her off by pushing his cock back down her throat. 

After a few more rounds he pulls out and strokes himself over her wet face as she shudders and moans and gasps. He moves to kneel between her legs again and her cunt is so wet that some of the moisture has dripped down to the plug. He leans back on his heels and then drags her across the duvet until her hips are resting on his lap, legs splayed in the air around him. Her bound hands are bumping against his knees. The muscles of her cunt are quivering when he presses his cock against her entrance. He looks at Rose and even with the blindfold he can see the eager, expectant look on her face. He can't really thrust in his position so he pulls her the rest of the way up his cock and she almost screams. "Ahhh! Yes, yes, oh Doctor, oh please--!" He's breathing hard and takes a moment to feel her all around him, muscles twitching, plug pressing against the underside of his cock, and wonders at how amazing it is -- truly amazing, the sensations that can be experienced by touching one human body to another. The Doctor had sex, he'd had a wife and lovers and flings but he couldn't feel this, he couldn't become so enraptured with the purely physical that he actually forgot the passage of time.

"Oh God," Rose is chanting, "oh please, you have to move, please...." Her voice brings him back to the present and he starts to rock her back and forth on his cock. "Oh, its perfect, Doctor," she moans, "you're perfect..." and his heart constricts again, the way it had in the alley, the way it does every time she tells him that she crossed universes to find him, the way it does every time she won't quite meet his eye when he lets something of Donna slip into his speech or his mannerisms. But then she's arching up on his cock, and he focuses on that, on the feel of her, the sound of her, the smell of her, and lets that wash everything else away. 

He starts to alternate between short, quick thrusts, and the slower, deeper rocking. It's so good, but somehow he knows Rose doesn't want it to end this way, so after a few more minutes he pushes her down off of his cock. She moans at the loss and tries to angle her hips back toward him, but he stops her by reaching down to the plug in her arse and twisting it. She freezes, shaking. He starts pushing it back and forth, fucking her arse with shallow strokes while she tries to spread her legs even wider for him, then he pulls it out completely. Her hole gapes open, so used now to being stretched wide and full. The rim is twitching and pulsing, and a small noise escapes from the back of his throat as he watches a dribble of come drip out and down. Rose must feel it trailing down between her cheeks because she suddenly jerks, her arse clenching involuntarily and forcing another slow gush of come. He fumbles on the floor behind him with one hand, searching for the little bottle of lubricant he'd dropped there when he undressed. He finds it and clicks it open, almost dropping it in his haste, then squeezes out a healthy dollop of lube into his hand, coating his cock with quick, rough strokes. He presses the tip against her hole, then looks down at her face, breathing hard.

"Oh fuck yes, do it, do it--" she urges, and then he's pushing his cock into her arse. He listens to her desperate moans as he starts rocking into her and oh God, she's tight, and hot, and it's so good, but she's begging, "More, more, please--", so he pulls out and flips her over onto her stomach, pulls her arse up, and then sinks back in. Rose is even louder now, and suddenly he has to fuck her hard and fast, pounding into her arse. He's close, he's so close, but he needs her to come first, he needs her to tell him, he knows it, and then he's begging, "Oh please, Rose, please, _please_ ," and he's clinging to her, shaking, fucking, he can't stand any more it's too much everything is too much but then Rose says, "yes, _yes_ ", and he nearly sobs in relief as he slides a hand down to stroke her, once twice, three times, and finally she's coming, beneath him, around him, and then with a helpless moan he's coming too, shuddering as he empties himself inside her once more.

He collapses onto her, trembling. After a few moments his cock slips out of her and he rolls over and curls up on his side. He covers his face with his hands and tries to calm his breathing. Despite the endorphins running through him he feels distant and empty, and very tired. His nausea has returned. He's probably dehydrated. He wonders if that's more to do with the drugs or the alcohol or the sex.

"Doctor?" comes Rose's voice, and he opens his eyes to see her still bound and blindfolded. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he says, shuffling over and untying her wrists, then pushing up her blindfold. He cups her cheek. She's still flushed and her hair is tousled and she looks startlingly young. He kisses her softly on the lips. "I'm sorry," he says again, forehead resting against hers.

"Don't be," Rose says, with a soft smile. He wants to smile back but he can't. Instead, he pulls her down and lies close to her on the blue duvet, shifting carefully so his sore cock isn't caught between them. Sticky, naked skin presses close to sticky, naked skin, and Rose pulls his arm down around her. "I love you, Doctor," she says.

He closes his eyes. He's so tired. 

"...I don't think I am the Doctor," he confesses, quietly. 

There's a long silence, and he feels a terrible dread overcome him, that he has just lost her, that he'll be alone in this world, no friends, no family, no TARDIS, no love or comfort; just a few pointless decades and then death. 

"Of course you are," Rose says, breaking the quiet. "You're just -- you're just different to the ones that I knew before. That's okay. You're still getting used to this, to this life and this universe and being mortal. Being... with me."

"Yeah?" he asks, voice hoarse, and winces at the uncertainty in his own voice. He pulls her close, rests his chin on top of her head. "Yeah," he repeats, a little stronger. He nods and then kisses the top of her head. "Of course."

"Hey," Rose says, tentatively, "I could... try and pull some strings at work, see if we can get sent on a mission -- abroad, you know? Get you away from Canary Wharf, get travelling again? Maybe we could even do a Cyberman recon, out somewhere in Eastern Europe. We're supposed to be sending a team out, I'm not sure when -- but it's soon, it's pretty soon. Would you like that?"

He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath. "Sure," he says. "Mission. Soon. That sounds good."

He pulls the duvet over them, so they're both wrapped in it like it's a warm, soft cocoon shielding them from the rest of the universe. It's dark under the blanket; he can't even make out Rose's face a few inches from his. Nor she his, he assumes. He rests his head in the crook of Rose's neck, keeps his eyes open even though he can't see anything. 

"I love you too," he whispers.

 

 

end


End file.
